Chapter 3 (Dignity)


I set three duffel bags full of cash and jewelry on the counter of the dingy little dry cleaner shop on the corner of 43rd street and Main.

"How much?" the asian woman behind the counter demanded. I shrugged.

"Somewhere around four million."

The woman sniffed and lifted each bag in her hand, closing her eyes and jiggling each one in turn.

"Four point two five million," she sniffed. "We take five percent."

"Three percent," I corrected her. "Eleazar and I go way back."

The woman rose an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Three percent for Eleazar. Two percent for me. This is called turn over. Five percent or take your bag somewhere else."

Tanya sauntered up the counter and grinned cutely at me.

"That's okay Sunny," she said to the asian woman. "Edward is a family friend. We will do three percent for him. As long as he agrees to take me to the mayor's ball, of course."

I gritted my teeth. A night of schmoozing with politicians was the furthest thing from appealing to me. If Emmett were here, he would tell me to man up.

"I'll get a tux," I answered. Tanya beamed. Sunny only glared at me before scooping the bags up off of the counter and disappearing.

"Where have you been, Edward?" Tanya asked, leaning against the counter so that her breast spilled forward like an offering. I kept my gaze locked on her eyes. She straightened and crossed her arms with a soft sigh of indignation.

"Here and there," I answered dismissively. I glanced pointedly at my watch. Tanya was a sensitive sort of creature, and while I usually had no time to coddle her, I had just given her 4.5 million to clean.

"Shame about the Velvet Box," she said, raising an eyebrow, as if daring me to deny what I had so obviously played a part in.

"The Velvet Box?" I asked, feigning ignorance. Tanya narrowed her eyes briefly. Her delicate nostrils flared in annoyance. But as quickly as the emotion crossed her features, it was gone, replaced with a placid expression and a flirty smile.

"Armed robbery three weeks ago," she said. She paused and gazed thoughtfully at me. "And murder. They'll have to close, of course. No one wants to shop where they don't feel safe. Such a shame, too. They had such beautiful engagement rings." I nodded demurely.

"Such a shame," I echoed.

"You know," Tanya sighed, twirling a golden lock between her long, delicate fingers. "My dad had the Chief of Police and his girlfriend over for dinner last night. You know them, don't you? Charlie Swan and Renee Dwyer?"

At the mention of Isabella's parents, I was suddenly more engaged in the conversation. Tanya noticed the change immediately, and the victorious smirk that pressed itself against her lips should have warned me off. But where Isabella was concerned, I had no sense of self-preservation.

"You had dinner with Charlie Swan?" I asked, trying to keep the interest out of my voice. By the expression on Tanya's face, it wasn't working.

"Quite regularly," Tanya answered. "You must know that he and my dad are close friends. He's not really a talkative man. But once you get some wine into him, and mention his daughter...well, that's all it takes to get him going."

"Tanya, stop fucking around," I growled. She leaned forward, renewed vigor shining brightly in her eyes. I knew I was in dangerous territory.

"I can be useful to you, Edward," she said in a quiet voice. "I have access to all sorts of people. They underestimate me, because they think I'm shallow and stupid. But I can use that against them to help you." Resolve wasn't something that I often saw in Tanya's expression. In fact, I had believed her quite incapable of it. But here she was, promising me her body and her access and everything else. For the briefest of moments, I understood what it felt like to be her. It was clear as day, where it hadn't been before, and I cursed myself for it. Tanya loved me. Wholly and truly, and she only wanted me to love her in return.

But I couldn't.

I wish I could say that I were the type of man to let her down gently. But I'm not. I never was. I leaned across the counter, and trailed my finger down the side of her jaw, tucking it underneath her chin to lift her gaze to me. I heard her breath hitch. I could feel the pounding of her heart, the heat that radiated off of her. Her blue gaze fluttered shut, forming two crescent moons against the milk pale curve of her cheek. Her next breath left her lips in a shudder. I kissed her.

Our lips molded together in a heated press. I drew her lip in against my teeth and nibbled gently. She sighed. I pulled away just as she reached for me. She faltered, and her eyes flicked open. In that moment, I only felt one thing: power. There was nothing quite like the exhilaration of knowing that you have control over some one else.

"I'll pick you up at nine," I told Tanya. I turned on my heel and left the dingy little dry cleaner before she could recover.

My phone vibrated just as my driver closed the back door behind me and pulled away from the curb. It was Emmett.

"Heard about James," he boomed into my ear. "He found out that you shot his dad through the eye? Bad form, little bro. Bad form."

"It's nothing to worry about," I assured him. "I'll handle it."

"You know he's never liked you," Emmett pressed. "And now with pops gone -"

"I said I'll handle it," I interrupted. "So did you just call to jerk me off, or do you actually need something?"

"Remember how you said that we needed to keep an eye out for a company called Volturi?" he asked. His voice suddenly sounded muffled, and there was a loud commotion in the background.

"What about it?" I asked, my interest was piqued. The envelopes I had taken from The Velvet Box were filled with an assortment of information that all seemed useless and unrelated. I'd spent a week locked away from the world, poring over each letter in agonizing detail, trying to find some connection amongst the noise. The only thing I had managed to decipher was the name Volturi. It appeared frequently, among shipping information, creditors and property leases. Despite my best efforts, and the efforts of Garrett, Volturi seemed to be as much of a shadow as the mysterious man behind all of this.

"Jasper heard that there's a truck that's supposed to drive through town tonight, carrying thirteen tons of cargo at its last checkpoint in California. He says that the truck's registration is under Volturi. Thought you might want to check it out."

A rapid succession of three gunshots rang out in Emmett's background.

"What the fuck? Where are you?" I demanded of my older brother. There was a slight scuffle and a grunt over the line.

"Don't worry about it," Emmett said, sounding very slightly out of breath. "So are we checking this thing out tonight or what?"

"What does the timing look like?" I asked. Some men were shouting in what sounded like Romanian, and Emmett cursed over the line.

"I'll have to call you back," he answered. "But Jasper says to be ready to go at midnight."

Then, the call disconnected. I could only stare in disbelief at the phone in my hand. I shook my head and put it away as my driver pulled up to the front of my apartment. I can only attribute what happened next to being careless. My dad always told me to be cautious about everything, especially about the things that we do every day. "Habit," he used to say, "Is your enemy's greatest weapon against you."

I turned the lock with my key, and pushed the door open to be greeted by the scent of something sickly sweet and a soft click.

"Fuck."

I turned, and ran, throwing myself over the stair balcony. I felt a sickening pop and heard a crunch before everything was drowned out by the roar and heat of an explosion.

"Fuck!" I roared again, rolling onto my feet and clutching my aching shoulder. I limped as fast as I could down the stairs, yanking the fire alarm as I went. The explosion had rocked the building, the alarm was only a formality. The sweet smell was spreading quickly, making my head spin and my stomach clench. I felt the telltale flow of saliva in my mouth, and forced myself to hold down my vomit.

Tenants were pouring out of their apartments now, eyes wide and frantic in panic. I spied an elderly woman struggling to get to the stair. The fire above was spreading quickly, I was already sweating from the heat and the smoke singed my lungs. I grabbed the old lady's arm and pulled it over my shoulder, supporting her with my good arm.

"Thank you," she said weakly, before she succumbed to a coughing fit. The sweet stench threatened to make me pass out. My vision swam. White hot pain stabbed up my leg every time I took a step. I couldn't feel my left hand, and the old lady was heavy against me, and growing limp.

I collapsed as soon as I handed the woman off to a firefighter. Fresh air had never felt so good. I took big, gulping breaths, ignoring the paramedics who approached me. I was bombarded with questions. Sirens were wailing, growing nearer every second. I felt rather than saw myself being lifted onto a gurney and shoved into the back of an ambulance. A mask was pulled taut against my face. My vision swam and darkened. I leaned over and ripped the mask off just in time to vomit. Bile burned the back of my throat.

Just before the doors of the ambulance closed, I caught a glimpse of a tall, lean man, impeccably dressed in a well fitting suit. His eyes were hard and grey, his dark hair was slicked back neatly. An unlit cigarette hung from his mouth as he leaned against a dark car. It was almost as though the chaos didn't touch him. When he caught my eye, he winked, dropped the cigarette and got into the car.

The ambulance doors slammed shut.


A/N: Crime and romance are a strange marriage, but one that I find works incredibly well together. Every mob boss needs his princess, right? Isabella didn't make an appearance in this chapter, but never fear! She'll be back soon. Until next time.